A Deal With the Devil (14 page)

For a fleeting second Rey was there, the metal stench filling his nostrils, adrenalin pumping through his veins. And he felt his heart rate ramp up, his fists curl in anticipation.

He knew when he was beat, when there just was no point fighting the rush and urge any more. Hell, Kate wasn’t here, he had an empty schedule for the next few hours and the need for some kind of release that a jog around the block wouldn’t satisfy. Above all, he owed his friend.
One last fight
. He dragged the cigarette from Ted’s mouth. “No smoking in my damned car, or you’ll walk. Make the most of this, mate, it’s not happening again.”

One last fight.
Now he was sounding just like his father.

W
hat the hell
kind of business was so urgent that it needed two beefcakes to collect him? The casino was only a short walk away, he didn’t need a car.

Kate had more than a suspicion. He was going to No Surrender. How deep exactly did it run in his blood? Because he’d said he didn’t do it any more. Thinking of how Jake was after his fight she didn’t dare to imagine how Rey would be—even though he might win, he’d be bruised, bloody, damaged all over again. He’d said they always stopped it before it got too dangerous, but how far did they go? All for what? Some kind of misguided search for glory?

She had to stop him from doing something he didn’t need to do. And hell, the irony of it was, after all that hacking and snooping around she didn’t need to get a code, she just needed to follow him. She waited until he jumped into his car, then said to her driver, “I never thought I’d get to say this, but can you follow that car?”

“God, not another joker.” He regarded her through his rear mirror and shook his head, slowly. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that …? Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Rey’s car was moving east into surging traffic, she waved her hand. “And get a move on. Please, it’s important. Life-and-death kind of stuff.”

“Okay, lady, but if this is a joke …” The cab drove through increasingly darker roads towards the Docklands, then followed narrowing streets, away from the business area to a ghost town of large warehouses left empty after the global crash. Thin strips of light picked out broken pavements, leaking pipes, the dismal drizzle of an October evening.

She looked around in dismay. This was the kind of place where Jake had been?

Rey’s car turned sharp left and drove up an alleyway.

“Stop here,” Kate commanded the cab driver, preferring to go on foot and not draw attention to herself. This was not about the article. This was not about revenge. This was about stopping Rey from descending into that dark pit of barbarism again. She asked the taxi driver to wait, quickly paid in advance and tiptoed through the shadows.

Rey and his security guys climbed out of a car outside a deserted building. At least, it looked deserted. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a couple of men hanging around, staying back against the wall. They all nodded to each other then opened a heavy door and disappeared into the building.

She couldn’t be sure there wouldn’t be others arriving, so she snuck into the shadows around the side of the building and scanned. Over to the left was a pile of rubbish stacked against a door. Shaking with nerves she slid the rubbish to one side with her foot, tried the door. After a couple of hefty pulls on the handle it swung open, and she slid quietly inside.

Voices loud and fierce, groans and thuds, echoed through the cavernous building and she realised she was in a disused multi-storey car park. Somewhere, below her, men were fighting. She followed the noise.

Hiding behind a concrete pillar she tried to make sense of her surroundings. A makeshift arena made of chalk was flanked by men of all shapes and sizes obscuring her view. In one corner a guy held a camera on a stick. Next to him another guy in a suit gave a hushed running commentary. She couldn’t make out the words.

As feet shifted from side to side she caught glimpses of two men. Both naked from the waist up. Bare feet. Bare knuckles. As one crashed to the floor the crowd roared. But then he crawled to stand, staggered, raised his fist at the other scrappy, wily looking man. Then he slumped back to the ground. The scent of sweat and concrete hit her nose, elemental, metallic, mixed with a warm heat of more than a dozen bodies and an almost palpable energy.

More commentary. A victory fist pump, and cheers. Then words she did understand:
The Destructor
. And her heart filled her throat. From out of the shadows Rey stepped into the circle. The crowd cheered, whistled. The body she now knew intimately, the face she could never tire of looking at. Burly. Barbaric. Beautiful. He cracked his knuckles and cricked his neck from side to side. He, too, was naked to his waist, feet bare, wearing a pair of old shorts.

No.
She stepped closer. There was no need for this. She wanted to scream at him that what they had could be bigger than this. That he did not have to endure intense pain to just
feel.
That there were better things, good things he could do with his body. That he did not have to relive his nightmares over and over again. Because surely that was what he was doing?

But then he arced his clenched fist in an almost balletic movement, wide and high, making contact with his opponent’s jaw. The shorter guy staggered back, shook his head. But Rey was in front of him, eyes continually focused, assessing and analysing as she’d seen him on so many occasions. Where the other man fought for breath, Rey was calm and centred.

Even though Rey took some hard body blows, when the shorter man lunged, Rey stepped aside, time and time again, allowing his opponent to tire. She’d read it was a game of stamina and Rey was playing it perfectly, a well-timed dance. When his opponent fatigued Rey landed a perfect shot. He was precise and efficient, his honed body slick with sweat, muscles stretching and contracting in perfect harmony, until, finally, there was only one man standing.

The security guy from the casino stepped into the circle and raised Rey’s hand … talked about poetry in motion and other well-used clichés, about a fair fight and a worthy winner. As Kate peered more closely she could see blood dripping from the worthy winner’s cheek, a deep cut, bruises forming on his lip, his throat, his shoulders. He was smiling. He was triumphant.

And her heart shattered. He’d lied when he’d said he wasn’t going to do it any more—but how could he stop? He loved it. Worse, he needed it.

Then Rey stepped forward, his hands up, bringing the audience to silence. “Listen up, I have an announcement. After a lot of deliberation I’ve decided that from today No Surrender will cease to exist. Over the next couple of days the chat rooms and forums will be closed down and there won’t be any more fights. Not with me, anyway. I love this club, I do, and all your ugly faces, but it’s getting out of hand. The rules are getting blurred, people who shouldn’t be here are getting hurt. It’s time for me to move on and you should too. It’s over, boys. Thank you for your involvement. It’s been wild, but go find something better to do. Good luck.”

He was really finishing it?

“What? What do you mean?” Anger tripped around the group. Fists clenched. Kate realised that many of them were like Rey—they needed to feed this burning feral urge inside themselves. And now, because of … because of Macau? Because of Jake, he was taking that away from them. “What about us?”

“There’s other things I want to do with my evenings; you should find something else too.” Rey looked at a guy in the corner. “You’ll survive, Billy. There’s more to life than fighting.”

“Like what?”

“Sex!” Someone shouted from the back. And Rey looked up. Grinned. “Something like that.”

And Kate wondered … did that …? Was that …? About her?

But over near the cameraman things were getting out of control. The camera flew into the air. “No Surrender! No Surrender!” A few chanted while a fist was raised and connected with someone’s jaw.

Rey had underestimated the ferocity of their need and their loyalty. The fighting crowd began to split into small groups of fists and grunts, veering backwards, almost reaching Kate’s hiding place. They were fighting now because of his decision, because of her.

Sensing things turning nasty she turned and began to run across the car park, not caring if she was heard or seen. She had to get away.

*     *     *

What the hell?
Through the brawling morass Rey saw what he thought was a mirage. Kate? Here?

The flash of silver shoes. “Kate!” This sure as hell was no place for her. Despite the battering he’d taken it took less than a minute to reach her across the grubby, oil-splattered tarmac. He grabbed her hand and tried to speed up towards one of the exits.

“Leave me alone.” She stopped. Dead.

“Kate?” He tugged at her hand.
Not this, not now
. “Come on. It’s time to leave, we can talk in a minute—I want to get you out first. It’s not safe.”

“Look at you. Just look at the state of you. I’m so bloody angry …” Her eyes blazed, her body trembled with rage. “Have you any idea what it’s like to stand by and watch that?”

She shook her hand free, raised her open palm towards his face. He braced himself for the hit. It didn’t come. He caught her gaze, stepped into her space feeling like shit in too many ways to count. As he looked down he caught sight of his abdomen, battered and black with burgeoning bruises. The slow thrum of fatigue settled into his bones and all he craved was a cold beer and hot sex. And really? She was going to bawl him out? Of course she was.

He stepped further into the potential trajectory of her palm. “You want to fight? You want to fight me? Right now? Do it.”

She didn’t touch him, but the dark look she threw at him punched him square in the solar plexus. Her arm dropped to her side. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“No? Well, believe me, I’m trying to. Look at you.” She reached to the cut on his cheek, then ran a thumb over a lump on his brow. “Damaged.”

“No different to normal. I’ll live.”

“Not if I get my way.” Her nostrils flared, eyes glowered. “I have truly never met anyone so stupid.”

He dragged her fingers from his skin, tried to suck oxygen into what he reckoned was a beat-up lung. None of that mattered, it was mere physical pain, he could survive any of that. But the way she looked at him, eyes black, lips peeled back, that was what could bring him to his knees.

It flashed through his mind right then that he might love her, that doing that would be the greatest thing he’d ever achieved. This was the sweetest face he’d ever seen, blazing as it was with anger and passion. But he couldn’t love her, because this was something good; earthy, brutal and gloriously good. And he didn’t know how to do this without ruining it. So he locked that thought away. Closed off the emotions. Tried. But they lingered at the edges, threatening. He couldn’t love her, could he? After such a short space of time? That kind of romantic guff didn’t happen.

But she’d been worried about him. Sweet Jesus. She was fit to explode with righteous anger because she was worried about him. Oh, and she hated him, too. Magnificent. If his ribs didn’t feel so broken he’d have tipped his head back and laughed. Instead he pulled her outside into the cool dark night. “So what the hell are you doing here?”

She tilted her chin, defiant. “I wanted to see the fight club.”

“And why would you want to do that?” Behind them the grunts and roar of men pushing themselves beyond their limits split the air. With him or without him they’d each of them seek their own release. The doc was there, some of his security team and Ted too, to scrape up whoever was left and appease the rest. Tomorrow he’d ease the waters, send them a cut of the online gambling profits, confirm it was over. They’d live. They’d grumble and moan, but they’d live. Right now Kate was his priority. “What’s this sudden interest all about?”

“Forget it.”

“Goddamn, Kate, you lied to me once and I let it go. Do not do it again.”

“I wanted to see you. To stop you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Her shoulders slumped. “I wanted to see it.”